


Sleep is for the Weak, or Sleep for a Week?

by UncrownedKing



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: For a Friend, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncrownedKing/pseuds/UncrownedKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Literally why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep is for the Weak, or Sleep for a Week?

Sans was splayed on the couch at their house, clicking through channels but not really watching any of them.  It was just mindless chatter to fill the void of his life, ever since they got out of the underground last year.  Frisk spent a lot of their time talking to human governments with Asgore, Toriel, and surprisingly Papyrus.  Sans occasionally joined them, but then they’d go into another room and he’d have to wait outside, with the “other guards”. 

“I’m sorry, Sans, it’s a matter of monster security,” he remembered Asgore saying, patting his back as he lumbered into the enclosed, soundproof room.   

Now, it wasn’t very boring trying to mess with the human guards, but it wasn’t as fun as cracking jokes with Toriel, or playing with Frisk, and especially setting up hijinks with Papyrus.  So he stayed home, claiming that he was going to set up their new house.  “New New Home” Asgore called it, and Toriel had punched him in the arm. 

As of that moment, he had gotten a couch, a television set, and cable, somehow.  And he sure as heck was using it.  He sank further into his chair when the doorbell rang.  Did he order anything lately?  No, nothing he could remember.  The doorbell rang again.  Sans groaned and climbed off of the couch, his bones popping and creaking at the sudden movement.  He shuffled over to the door and swung it open. 

The poor mailman jumped at the sight of the living skeleton and hid behind his clipboard.  Sans chuckled.  “What’s up, scaredy bones?” he grunted.

The mailman thrusted the clipboard into his hands.  “We-We’re delivering the beds and need a signature!” he squealed, before scampering back to his truck.

Sans watched as the truck beeped and two….three boxes were lowered by a platform on the back.  He looked at the board and read that he had ordered “One race-car bed, one child’s twin and one king sized bed, with sheets and mattresses for all.”

He quickly signed it and reread the prices.  Yeesh, he didn’t know if they even had that much money.  Did what Papyrus was doing count as a job?  He didn’t fucking know.  How else would he pay….?

“S-Sorry, not really used to the whole monsters thing yet,” the mailman had returned, apologizing, “You, er, need any help moving them?”

Sans snapped his finger.  His Gaster Blasters appeared, and each one picked up the boxes with their mouths.  “I’ve got this, don’t worry,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Right.  So, about the payment….”

“Oh, right,” Sans nodded and quickly threw the door closed.  

The mailman blinked.  The Blasters brought the beds upstairs and began to unpack them, setting them up for Sans while he searched for the payment card.  Credit Card?  Visa Card?  Was that what it was called?  He didn’t fucking know.

He opened the door and threw the card out, it bouncing off of the man’s head before slamming the door closed.  He blinked and grabbed the card off of the ground, before booking it out of there.  Monsters.  Holy fuck.

Sans walked up to his room and found his bed perfectly made.  “Ah…” he fell backwards onto the bed and rolled under the blankets.

Perfect.


End file.
